


Emotionalism (and a lack thereof)

by Herenya_writes



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Analysis of Vulcan culture, Early in the mission, Jim is a thoughtful Captain, M/M, Mild Racism, More emotions than Spock wants to deal with, Pre-Slash, Tumblr Prompt, Who cares about his crew, cultural misunderstanding, okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herenya_writes/pseuds/Herenya_writes
Summary: The Enterprise is sent to negotiate with highly emotional people, and cultural misunderstandings occur. Spock brushes it off, but Jim takes it upon himself to make the Vulcan feel comfortable.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 38
Kudos: 304





	Emotionalism (and a lack thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little pre-slash one-shot that came from a prompt from an anonymous ask on tumblr who wanted Kirk defending Spock, which I shamelessly used as an excuse to write a mini-essay about Vulcans and emotions and cultural acceptance. So here it is!

The Grithor were an emotional people. That information had, of course, been included in the thirty-four-page briefing that Starfleet had sent prior to the Enterprise’s diplomatic mission on their home planet of Grith, but the briefing had been written by a human ambassador and for a mostly-human crew, which meant that Spock was not adequately prepared for the sheer level of emotionalism that he faced almost the instant that he, the captain, Lieutenant Uhura, and a small security team beamed down to the surface.

They had been greeted by an enthusiastic Grithorian male who had identified himself as Ambassador Thrieode and profused several times—four times in 127 seconds—that he and his government were overjoyed to have the captain of the Enterprise on the planet to present the Federation’s plan to build a Starfleet Academy preparatory school. The greeting itself had not been overly much for Spock, as he was used to politicians and others showering his captain—quite rightly—with praises. When the walk to the hall where the negotiations would occur was just as emotional, however, Spock began to realize just how unsuited for this environment he was.

Seven different people stopped the group to introduce themselves and declare how excited they were to have Starfleet representatives in their capital city. Kirk responded to these interruptions with his typical grace and charm, declaring that he and his crew felt honored to be there. Uhura and the security officers all responded with smiles or similarly friendly gestures, and Spock nodded. Three of the seven Grithorians narrowed their eyes, which sat atop ten-centimeter tall antenna, at him in what appeared to be open hostility, but the group moved on before they could act on that particular emotion.

Still, the incidents caused uncertainty to grow in his mind. Did these people expect him to emote as freely as they did? There was nothing in the briefing to indicate this, but the previous ambassadors to the planet had all been human, and there was a 72.456 percent likelihood that they had simply been outgoing enough for the Grithorians to see no need to mention the importance of emotional displays. 

With that in mind, Spock stopped his captain a few meters from the door that would take them to the council chambers. “Captain,” he said once the man had turned, “I believe that my presence here may be harmful to our negotiations with the Grithor.”

Kirk’s eyebrows furrowed together and he frowned and glanced over at Ambassador Thrieode, who was currently laughing loudly at a comment made by one of the security team members. “And why is that, Mr. Spock? They seem a friendly enough people.”

If Spock had been human, he might have shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he attempted to find a suitable answer to the question. How did one explain that the very friendliness his captain admired might be what put Spock at risk of insult? Eventually, he fixed his gaze on a spot 2.3 centimeters above the captain’s right shoulder and said in a voice devoid of inflection, “I believe that emotional displays hold cultural and societal significance to the Grithorians. Since I am unable to emote as openly as the other members of the away team, there is a 68.342 percent chance that my presence will cause offense, which could, in turn, endanger the negotiations.”

The corners of the captain’s mouth pulled down slightly. “The Grithorians are members of the Federation, and the Federation respects the cultures of all of its members. They can’t reasonably expect you to betray yours.”

Spock tilted his head in concession. “To do so would be illogical,” he agreed. Privately, however, he doubted that logic held as much sway among these people as the captain seemed to expect.

Nevertheless, Kirk seemed satisfied that they would not encounter any difficulties. “So, you’ll stay, Mr. Spock?” The light in his eyes was playful, and Spock couldn’t help but wonder if that gaze was one that he used on all of the crewmembers or just a select few.

“If that is what you desire.”

“It is. Come on, let’s go secure the future of Starfleet.” The man clapped him on the back and then turned back to the ambassador, a wide grin already on his face. Spock swallowed a sigh and followed, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

. . .

The emotionality of the negotiation was like a violent thunderstorm. Spock was not prone to drawing such comparisons between two obviously dissimilar situations, but he could not stop the simile from forming in his mind. The emotions of the dozen Grithorians present in the room pressed against his mind in a constant deluge, and whenever something particularly engaging occurred in the negotiations a flash of lightning would ripple through them, their joy or confusion or understanding blindingly evident. Spock had not suffered from a telepathically induced headache since he was a young child, but he could feel one beginning to build in his mind.

After the captain’s nearly hour-long introduction of Starfleet’s proposal—which had been littered with jokes, laughs, emphatic gestures, and a myriad of other emotional responses from the charismatic man—he ceded the floor to Spock to discuss the more technical details of the school.

Spcok made it three minutes and seventeen seconds into his explanation before the Grithorians began to show signs of confusion. Within five minutes and twenty-nine seconds, that confusion had morphed to wariness. By the end of the first quarter of his presentation—an in-depth description of the resources that the school would require from the Grithorian government—many of the council members were fidgeting and blinking angrily at him. He attempted to inject more emotion into his words, but his very being seemed to roil in disgust and he aborted the action. Finally, the head Grithorian, a woman by the name of Feeri, stood.

“Captain Kirk, who is this man you have speak for you? He is a —!” The universal translator did not have an approximation for the word that the woman spoke, but the evidence pointed to the probability of it being a compliment at so nearly zero that Spock did not see the point in counting the zeros behind the decimal.

Spock prepared to step down from the platform—Lieutenant Uhura had studied his notes adequately and would be able to finish his explanation—when the captain stood, his mouth set in the firm line that Spock had so often seen when the man had set his mind to something. It was an expression almost always followed by a passionate argument.

“This is Commander Spock, my First Officer and Chief Science Officer. He is the most knowledgable member of my crew about the prep school, particularly where its resources and projected impacts on your planet are concerned,” he declared his voice rising slightly as he stepped onto the dais next to Spock. “If you will allow him to continue, I believe you will find the information that he will provide to be quite useful.” 

The Grithorians blinked at him for a few moments before turning to one another and chittering in their language at a frequency too low for the universal translators to pick up. Finally, Feeri turned back to the captain, her face a canvas of determined hostility.

“Those who hide their emotions do so because they want to disguise the truth, Captain Kirk,” she declared. “We will not listen to your commander unless he behaves honestly.”

Spock was about to speak, to tell his captain that he would simply step down and allow Lieutenant Uhura to deliver the information in his place, when his captain spoke again, anger as evident in his even words as they had been in Feeri’s snarl.

“The Vulcan people are one of the founding members of the Federation, an organization that you and your people joined three years ago with the understanding that you would respect the cultures of its members,” he stated, ignoring the rapid blinks of the agitated council. “Vulcans highly value their emotional control, and to display their emotions openly in public is considered disrespectful. Despite this, Commander Spock has not made any mention of the emotionalism of your people, because he understands its importance in your culture.” The captain had shifted closer as he spoke, and his shoulder was now very nearly brushing Spock’s. “All I ask is that you show him the same respect.” 

For several moments, there was silence in the large council chamber, all eyes focused on the captain. Spock, too, could not help but turn to his captain. The man’s words had been passionate, yes, but they had also been logical and showed a surprisingly adept grasp of Vulcan culture. He had underestimated his captain. 

“We will listen to the commander’s words,” Feeri finally relented. Her body language and tone displayed obvious reluctance, but there was no more open hostility, and Spock allowed his posture to relax a fraction.

“Thank you.” There was still some anger in the captain’s voice, but when he turned to Spock, he smiled slightly. Then, he stepped back off of the dais and Spock resumed his presentation, the previous hostility replaced with grudging restraint.

. . .

Three hours later, the Enterprise crew was preparing to beam back aboard the ship having successfully negotiated the construction of the Starfleet Academy preparatory school, which would begin at the commencement of Grith’s next season. As members of the away team walked back to the beam-up point, Spock could read weariness in the postures of most of his crew-mates, including his captain.

The negotiations, while successful, had been draining on Spock’s mental state, and the headache that had begun at the beginning of the discussions was now painful enough to require a large percentage of his mental capacity to restrain. He had not considered, however, the fact that his captain might be equally exhausted. Although the man was outgoing by human terms, as Spock cast his memory back, he realized that the captain had been exaggerating his typical mannerisms in order to more fully put the Grithorians at ease, especially following his argument with the council.

The implications of that realization were still swirling in his mind when they reached the beam-up point and the captain flipped open his communicator. “Mr. Scott.” Yes, there was weariness in those words, far more than his smile suggested. “Six to beam up.”

“Good work down there, everyone,” Kirk declared with a wide smile as soon as they had rematerialized on the transporter pad. “Uhura, I’m sure the Xenolinguistics Council would love to hear your take on the Grithonian language if you have a chance to write something up later. Now all of you go get some food—you too, Scotty—it’s been a long day.”

The away team nodded their appreciation and filed out the door, several of them laughing as Lieutenant Uhura said something in the clicking language of Grith. Spock was about to follow them out—although he would be heading to his room to meditate—when the captain cleared his throat. Spock turned to see Kirk gazing at him with something almost like nervousness pulling at his brows. 

“Yes, Captain?”

“Would you mind sharing a game of chess with me?” 

The question combined with the captain’s genuine tone took Spock by surprise. He and Kirk had played chess together fourteen times since the start of their mission, but their games had always occurred during times of inactivity on the ship, never following a mission such as the one they had just completed. It was obvious that the man was tired, and yet he seemed to truly desire to spend time with Spock, or at least to play chess with him.

“Where would you like to play?” The words seemed to fall from Spock’s mouth almost involuntarily. He, too, was mentally exhausted and would benefit from several hours of quiet meditation away from the emotionalism of the crew before his next shift in ten hours, and yet, he found that the idea of spending some of that time with his captain was more than agreeable.

The man grinned, evidently relieved that Spock had accepted his request. “My quarters, if you don’t mind. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the noise of the rec rooms right now.”

Spock nodded, and Kirk smiled again before turning and leading the way out of the transporter room.

. . .

They were thirty minutes into their game—neither of them was playing at their best, and little progress had been made on either side—when the captain leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows drawing together in a thoughtfulness that Spock knew had nothing to do with the pieces in front of him. In response, Spock set down the rook he had been planning to move and waited for his captain to speak.

After a silence that lasted twenty-one seconds, Kirk glanced down at the board and then back up at Spock before saying, “I want to apologize for my actions back on Grith.”

Spock raised an eyebrow in question. “I do not understand your apology, Captain. Your behavior was more than exemplary.” Far better than his own at the very least. The man had adapted to his surroundings, something that Spock was beginning to suspect he excelled at doing.

Still, Kirk didn’t seem satisfied. “No, it wasn’t. I should have let you speak for yourself and explain your own culture instead of jumping in and giving the Grithorians my outsider’s interpretation,” he said shaking his head. “I apologize if I was incorrect in any of my statements or if my words offended you in any way.”

For a few moments, Spock could only stare at the man across the chessboard from him. Since the beginning of the mission and Spock’s subsequent appointment to First Officer not long after, he had operated under the belief that the captain, like the majority of the Enterprise’s human crew, merely tolerated his alien behavior because he had proven himself to be useful enough to counter the discomfort that interacting with him caused them.

When he had first joined Starfleet, he had done so knowing that he would be an outcast wherever he was stationed, despite his skills. Even under Captain Pike, Spock had been distant from the rest of the crew and his captain. He was not one for social engagements or meaningless conversation, and Pike had not seemed to care what he did in his free time. When Kirk had first begun to seek him out during his designated recreational times, Spock had assumed that the man wanted to keep an eye on him, to study him. It would not have been the first time. Now, however, Spock realized that his assessment had been almost entirely incorrect.

“Mr. Spock?” He blinked, clearing his mind of the jumbled realizations that had begun to flood it, and saw his captain looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and regret on his face. “I meant to apologize, not insult you further. Maybe this was a bad idea.” The man stood suddenly and began to put away the chess pieces on his side of the board.

“No, Captain, you did not offend me,” Spock assured quickly, shaking his head. Kirk paused his movements, the knight he held frozen in the air between the board and the box.

“Oh, good.” He replaced the knight, some of the tension bleeding out of him as he leaned back in his chair once more. “What was it then?”

The corners of Spock’s lips turned down a fraction of a centimeter as he thought of an appropriate response that would not offend his captain. Eventually, he settled on, “Your grasp of Surakian teachings is impressive, especially considering the fact that you have not spent any time on Vulcan. My people are not known for being open about their beliefs.”

A grin began to tug at the captain's lips, further dissipating the anxiety that clung to his features. “So I got everything right? Good. I’ve been reading up on Vulcan culture in my spare time for the past few months, and it’s nice to know that I haven’t been wasting my time on incorrect information.”

Spock blinked. “Indeed? May I inquire as to the purpose of these studies?”

The captain glanced down and turned the knight over in his fingers. “I wanted to know more about your culture, Mr. Spock. I don’t want to commit some kind of social faux pas if it could be avoided.”

Did his captain think so little of him that he believed Spock would not forgive such an accidental slight? “Captain, I apologize if I in any way led you to believe that I would not allow such an incident to be forgiven,” Spock said, leaning forward slightly and prompting the man to look up once again. “It was not my intention.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “No, no, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he declared with an adamant shake of his head. “I read up on Vulcan because I wanted to make you feel comfortable. I mean, you’re on a ship full of emotional humans. I’m sure we can be a little bit much sometimes.”

Spock’s first instinct was to deny any feelings of discomfort, but something in his captain’s open expression compelled him to instead incline his head. “There are times when I find the emotionalism of the crew to be...taxing,” he admitted.

“And yet the only time you mention it is when our emotions get in the way of the mission.” The captain gave a quiet laugh, barely more than a huff of air. “If half of Starfleet was as respectful of other cultures as you are, myself included, the galaxy would be a much more peaceful place.”

“I do not believe that your theory would have many proponents, Captain,” Spock stated as memories of less-than-friendly interactions with other Starfleet members rose to the surface of his mind.

Kirk did not seem to recognize the obvious flaw in his declaration and frowned. “And why is that, Mr. Spock? Surely the galaxy would benefit if more people were to understand other cultures before forcing people to believe as they do.”

“Indeed it would,” Spock agreed. “However, I believe the theory would require another example to be its figurehead in order to gain support.” Kirk’s frown deepened, and it was Spock’s turn to glance down at the chessboard. “If pressed, I doubt that many of my associates would declare my behavior to be culturally sensitive,” he explained. “I do not adapt well to other cultures, and as such, I tend toward isolation, which limits opportunities for social interaction.”

The captain was silent for a few moments, and Spock began to wonder if the man had realized that his time and effort had been wasted. Why would someone want to spend time making a person such as himself comfortable? He had never proven himself deserving of such compassion. When Kirk spoke, however, his words did not indicate such a train of thought. 

“Mr. Spock, with all due respect, I completely disagree.” Spock couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the statement and the passionate way in which it was delivered. “A person does not have to adapt to another culture in order to be respectful of it. On Earth, there are people from all different races, ethnicities, and religions. No one should expect an atheist to start believing in a higher being, but that doesn’t mean that atheist cannot respect those who do.” He paused, and a frown took over his features. “And yet, that’s exactly how most humans view Vulcans, isn’t it? They try to convince you or force you to show your emotions, just like the Grith did. Stars…” The man’s voice trailed away, and his frown grew.

“Do not let the incident on Grith trouble you, Captain,” Spock requested, seeing the frustration in the man’s eyes. “It was of little consequence, and as the Enterprise is not needed to oversee the construction of the school, it is unlikely that we will deal with the Grithorians again during the course of our mission.”

To Spock’s surprise, the captain shook his head. “That’s not the point. We may not see the Grithorians again, but this ship is full of humans and will be for the next four and a half years! I can’t just sit back and let people treat you like an outcast because of some cultural differences. Stars, I should have realized this sooner.”

A strange emotion was pooling in Spock’s stomach. Like all other emotions, he pushed it away to analyze in meditation later, but even as he did so, he allowed himself a split second to revel in its warmth.

“Captain, it would be illogical to disrupt the behavior of the entire crew to satisfy one person,” Spock stated, his voice soft in the face of his captain’s righteous frustration. “Do not trouble yourself.”

Kirk let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “But it shouldn’t be any trouble.” He sighed again and fell silent, and Spock allowed his captain the time he needed to collect his thoughts. As he did so, he examined the man more closely, this time utilizing his newfound understanding of his character.

There was exhaustion in the slump of his shoulders still, but now Spock knew that it was emotional exhaustion more than physical. His hands still turned the knight figurine between them, a sign of his troubled mind. But more than all of this was the expression on his captain’s face. His lips were fulled down slightly and his brows were furrowed as he gazed down at the knight in his fingers. Sorrow and guilt were written there, present because the man believed himself to owe Spock more than he had given. It was fascinating.

“You’re right, of course, Mr. Spock,” the man finally said with another long sigh. “I can’t force or expect other people to understand and respect every culture that they come in contact with. However, there is nothing stopping me from changing my own behavior.”

“Captain?”

“If you are amiable, Mr. Spock, I would like to learn more about your culture and yourself,” Kirk explained, a smile on his lips. This wasn’t the brilliant smile that so many magazines and crewmen spoke of. This was softer, more personal. “I greatly value your contribution to this ship, and I believe that we could become an even more efficient team if I knew more about your beliefs and ideologies. Maybe we could meet for chess once a week and talk? Or not, of course, if—”

“I am amiable, Captain.”

“Really?” A grin lit Kirk’s face. “Good. The Starfleet brass won’t know what hit them.” 

Spock only raised an eyebrow in response, but privately he agreed. He hypothesized that together, he and Captain Kirk would become more than simply efficient. Perhaps, Spock might even find in his captain a man he could call a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I'm not gonna lie, this isn't my best work. But, it was fun, and I really enjoyed the prompt and writing Jim's reaction to all of this. If you have a few seconds to spare, leave me a comment and let me know what you liked/didn't like. I really appreciate it! Also, feel free to hit me up at herenya_writes on tumblr! Thanks for reading!


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